8. Phantom Waters
Phantom Waters
Ari
Asher finds me in the library on the second floor a few minutes later, mumbling an apology about Maddox. I can tell he’s still angry, but I’m unsure what to do about it. When I reach for his hand, he brushes me off.
“My mom wants to go to the beach. Would you like to join us?” His voice is monotone, like he’s getting the words out without meaning them.
“Sure. It’s gorgeous out,” I offer, hoping the sunshine will put him in a better mood.
“Meet you by the front door in ten?” he asks, finally looking down at me.
“Okay.” He nods once, and as he turns to walk away, I grab his hand, pulling him back. “Hey, are you okay?”
He sighs, and something in his expression deflates. “I’m fine. I just didn’t… I wasn’t expecting Maddox to be here, that’s all. I’m still furious with my parents for suggesting he drive you… What if something happened to you?” he asks, tilting his head.
I should be flattered by his protectiveness, but instead I feel a tug of irritation. “It was fine. We went to some local boutique, I picked some clothes out, end of story. You were working. What else was I supposed to do?”
Asher opens his mouth to argue, but I squeeze his hand tightly. “Hey. Maddox is your brother, whether you like it or not. And that means I need to learn to accept him.”
Asher’s jaw tics. “Did he— Was he nice to you, at least?”
I hesitate. Nice isn’t the word I’d use.
Overpowering, commanding, intense .
But I keep that to myself.
“Yeah,” I say simply. “He was fine.”
Asher exhales, nodding stiffly. “All right. I’ll see you in ten.”
I watch as he walks away, a strange tightness settling in my chest.
Shaking it off, I walk down the hallway and step into my room, shutting the door behind me. I move toward my suitcase, pulling out a swimsuit, already trying to decide if I should wear the one that still faintly smells like lavender shampoo or maybe one of my new dresses that sit neatly on my bed, still inside their shopping bags.
Maddox must’ve dropped my new things off when Asher and I were talking. Did he overhear anything?
My phone chimes, the sharp sound cutting through the stillness of my room. I blink, my pulse already thrumming with unease as I glance down at the screen.
Unfamiliar number.
I hesitate before opening the message, expecting spam, some automated alert, anything but?—
(858) 667-9960
You liked it more than you’ll admit.
A slow, crawling sensation sends a static hum through me as I stare at the words, the meaning sinking in like a stone dropping into the depths of my stomach.
I know exactly who it’s from.
My fingers tighten around the phone, my grip just shy of trembling. The air in the room feels too thick, too still, like the walls are closing in.
I tell myself it’s nothing. That it’s just Maddox messing with me. Pushing, testing.
I exhale slowly, forcing my thoughts to steady. This is all just a game to him. A game I should ignore. I should delete it. I should block the number. I should do anything but what I actually do.
I type out a response, fingers moving before my mind can catch up.
Go to hell.
I hit send.
The reply comes almost instantly.
(858) 667-9960
Already there, angel. Just waiting on you.
A shiver rolls through me. Angel .
The word lingers, curling around my thoughts like smoke. My breath stutters, and for a split second, my mind jumps somewhere it shouldn’t. Somewhere absurd. The letters at my house…
I’ll see you soon, angel.
You lock your doors at night. That’s good. But doors don’t keep me out, angel. They only keep you in.
“Nothing, angel. Go back to sleep, okay?”
But no. That’s ridiculous.
I exhale sharply, pressing the power button until my screen goes black in my palm. It’s time to disconnect from reality today. I’ve spent too much time letting this get to me already. It’s a silly pet name. A generic one. Hell, random guys have called me angel before.
And Maddox?
I just met him.
There’s no way.
I shake my head, forcing the thought away, chalking it up to coincidence and my own paranoia. Still, my skin prickles as I move through the motions of getting ready, my body running on autopilot. I pull out the lavender-scented bikini from my suitcase and change into it, the faint floral scent grounding me. Normal. Routine.
I won’t let some stupid text ruin my day. He’s just trying to get in my head because of whatever rivalry he has going on with Asher.
I won’t let him.
I won’t.
But the problem is…
He already has.
* * *
The scent of salt and sunscreen clings to the air as I step onto the warm sand, my damp swimsuit clinging to my skin. I managed to rinse out most of the spilled shampoo, but there’s still a faint lavender scent lingering from where it soaked into the dark blue fabric.
I glance toward the shoreline, where Asher stands under the shade of a large beach umbrella, his phone already in hand. His parents are a few feet away, spreading out towels and setting up a small cooler with drinks. Maddox, of course, is watching everything in silence.
I press my lips together and drop my bag onto a nearby folding chair they must’ve set up for me. The sun is hot against my skin, and I adjust the straps of my bikini before sitting down.
Hannah beams at me as she settles into her chair. “So, Ari… Asher says you started your own business? You worked for a firm last time we saw you, if I recall.”
I smile and nod. “Yes, I have my own CPA practice now. I started it a few months ago after working for a big firm.”
Before I can elaborate, Asher shifts beside me and glances up from his phone. “She’s good at it, too.”
I blink, and Hannah hums in approval. “That’s wonderful, sweetheart. Independent women are a force to be reckoned with.”
Otto chuckles, cracking open a cold beer. “No wonder you keep Asher in line.”
At the mention of his name, I glance over at my boyfriend, but once again, he’s too focused on whatever’s on his phone screen to pay attention to the conversation. My stomach knots slightly. This is supposed to be a vacation, yet here he is, still buried in work.
Sitting on the towel, I lean back on my elbows and let the sun beat down on my skin with my eyes closed. I’m slathered in SPF 50, so I feel no guilt whatsoever for soaking up some much-needed vitamin D. My neck tingles, and when I open them, I see Maddox watching me with a white t-shirt and black swimming trunks on. The dark whorls of ink tracing down his arms are a stark contrast to the white shirt, but I don’t give myself any time to admire them.
He’s only a few feet away, silent and still, his sharp blue gaze tracing over my body in a way that makes my skin prickle. Not with embarrassment—with awareness.
“You’re from San Diego, right?” Otto asks.
I sit up and turn toward him, offering a warm smile. “Yes, I grew up there. Well, kind of. My dad was military, so we moved around a lot before settling there.”
Asher doesn’t even look up from his phone. “She has two younger sisters out of state,” he adds. “One in college and one in graduate school.”
I clench my teeth.
It’s not a lie. It’s not even offensive. But something about the way he answers for me—without hesitation, without even checking to see if I wanted to speak for myself—grates against my skin.
Hannah nods approvingly. “I’m just so glad Asher has met such a nice, normal girl.”
Her gaze flicks to Maddox, whose lips just twitch with amusement.
As if he can see right through me.
I don’t know why that makes my chest constrict, but suddenly, I feel stuck.
Trapped between a mother who’s already decided who I am, a boyfriend who speaks over me, and a man whose silence feels heavier than words.
The air is suddenly too thick, too hot. The sun beats down on me, and I feel my skin break out into a cold sweat.
I push myself up, brushing sand from the backs of my thighs. “I’m going for a swim.”
No one argues.
Not even Asher. He doesn’t even look up from his phone.
I walk toward the water, stepping over scattered shells and warm sand until I reach the surf. The ocean rushes in, lapping at my ankles, cool and soothing.
I take another step forward, letting the waves wrap around my legs, my overheated skin drinking in the relief.
After a few minutes, I feel a presence behind me. I don’t have to turn around to know who it is. He doesn’t speak right away, giving me the quiet I so badly needed. Instead, he steps into the water, silent as a shadow, letting the waves roll over his feet as he stares out at the horizon from next to me.
His existence is impossible to ignore.
I can feel him there, steady, deliberate, waiting. Almost like my body is tuned into the vibrations of his, somehow.
Like the air is crackling and popping.
God, I hate this.
Finally, his voice cuts through the sound of the tide. “Does Asher always do that?”
I glance at him, surprised to see he’s shirtless. Good god. He must’ve spent his whole prison sentence doing pull-ups.
“Do what?”
His eyes slide to mine, sharp, assessing. “Speak for you.”
A small flash of irritation flares in my chest. Not at him. At the truth in his words.
I inhale slowly, turning my gaze back toward the water. “It’s not like that.”
“Isn’t it?”
I don’t answer. The silence between us stretches, but it isn’t uncomfortable. It’s something else. Something heavier. I let my eyes drift over him, taking in the ink that stretches from his collarbones, creeping over his chest, down both arms, all the way to his fingers. Black lines twist and coil into intricate designs, some pieces blending seamlessly into others, like they were added over time. The ink disappears beneath the waistband of his black swim shorts, and I wonder how far it goes.
I have to actively attempt not to ogle my boyfriend’s twin’s body, but underneath the ink is pure, carefully honed muscle.
It’s hard not to notice.
“How long did those take?” I ask, nodding toward his tattoos.
Maddox glances down at his arms, flexing his fingers slightly before letting them relax.
“Years.”
I trace the patterns with my eyes, drawn to the way the ink moves with the shift of his muscles.
“They let you get tattoos in prison?”
His expression doesn’t change, but something flickers behind his gaze. “Some.”
I tilt my head, waiting.
He exhales, running a hand through his damp hair. “Some of these came before. The rest… I earned.”
Before .
The word lingers in the air between us, and I get the distinct impression that before holds more weight than just a timeline.
I press my lips together, my curiosity clawing at me. “How did you earn them?”
His jaw tics slightly, and for a moment, I think he won’t answer. But then?—
“Because I needed to remember the people I couldn’t save.” His voice is steady, but I hear the fracture underneath.
Something about the way he says it makes the air between us shift.
My fingers twitch at my sides, my curiosity gnawing at me, demanding more. But before I can ask, Maddox shifts closer. Just slightly. Just enough that his presence feels heavier.
“You know,” he murmurs, voice even, unreadable, “I see through the facade you’re putting on for my parents.”
My breath catches.
I glance up at him, brows drawing together. “Excuse me?”
His expression doesn’t change, but his gaze sharpens.
“You heard me,” he says, tilting his head slightly. “You’re a good actress, I’ll give you that. Polite. Sweet. The perfect girlfriend.” His voice dips lower, like he’s letting me in on some private joke. “But that’s not who you really are, is it?”
A slow, unwelcome heat creeps up my neck. Not from embarrassment—from something else.
I roll my eyes, trying to brush off the strange pull of his words. “You’ve known me for all of, what? A day? Don’t act like you’ve got me figured out.”
He hums, unconvinced. “No?” His blue eyes don’t waver from mine. “Tell me, then. Has Asher ever noticed how restless you are?”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. He waits. The waves rush in around our ankles, swirling between us, and I tell myself that’s why I feel off-balance. Not because of him.
Not because he’s right.
I cross my arms, resisting the urge to fidget under his stare. “I don’t know what you’re getting at.”
Maddox smirks, like he does know. Like he knows exactly what’s running through my mind, and he’s just waiting for me to catch up.
“You act like you don’t want more, but I see it. I know it’s why you’re dating my brother. Perfect boyfriend. Perfect job. What’s next… a perfect wedding, perfect beige house, a few perfect kids?” His voice is low, edged with something knowing, something dangerously close to the truth.
Something in my chest tightens. That all sounds… horrible.
“I’m not perfect,” I say automatically.
“No,” he agrees. “But you sure as hell try to be.”
The words strike a nerve. My stomach knots. I want to argue. I want to say something sharp, something cutting.
I don’t, though. Because I can’t come up with a good enough retort.
Maddox sees that too. His smirk deepens, just a fraction. He shifts his weight, exhaling as he turns his gaze back toward the water.
“Good girls crack the hardest,” he says absently, almost like he’s talking to himself.
I swallow hard, something tight coiling low in my stomach. “I’m not?—”
“A good girl?” Maddox cuts in smoothly.
His eyes flick back to mine.
I don’t like the way my pulse reacts.
I don’t like the way my thighs clench with whatever the fuck is happening right now.
I don’t like the way he says it like he already knows the answer.
His stare lingers, watching me, waiting for me to prove him right.
And for the first time, I’m not entirely sure I can.
“Ari!”
I jerk at the sound of my name, blinking as the spell breaks.
Asher’s voice carries over the sound of the waves. When I turn, he’s sitting in his chair beneath the umbrella, his phone still in his hand.
He gestures toward me lazily. “Want to go on a walk? I have thirty minutes before a call.”
A call.
Not time together. Not, ‘I want to spend time with you.’
I exhale, dragging a hand through my damp hair. “Sure,” I yell back.
When I glance back at Maddox, he’s watching me. Still, patient. A hunter letting his prey come to its own conclusions.
I turn away and head toward Asher, but with every step, Maddox’s words follow me.
“You act like you don’t want more, but I see it.”
And the worst part? I’m not even sure I know what ‘more’ is.